Heaven is Here
by Allistair
Summary: After leaving with Raoul Christines' thoughts are plagued with memories of her last encounter with her Angel. Thinking him gone, and his lair destroyed, she returns to the Opera house, only to stumble across Erik having one of his attacks. SongPhic and EC


_Firstly a huge thanks to everyone who's read and/or reviewed 'Musings of His Muse', it really meant a lot to me. Also, thanks to those who have put me on their alerts, I hope I don't disappoint! _

_This is rather text-heavy and somewhat lacking in dialogue, for which I apologise but it just flowed out like that. Also it follows and focuses on Christine and her thoughts/feelings, rather than the others. I hope you can still enjoy it. _

_Allistair _

* * *

**Based on:** The 2004 ALW Film & Kay

**Disclaimer: **You know I own none of it. The song is the wonderful 'Heaven is Here' by Sarah Brightman.

**Summery: **Christine shouldn't have looked back, after leaving with Raoul her thoughts are plagued with memories of her last encounter with her Angel. Thinking him gone, and his lair destroyed, she returns to the Opera house, only to stumble across Erik having one of his attacks. Song-Phic and EC

* * *

**_Heaven Is Here_**

How long had it been now? Days? Weeks? Christine tried harder to loose herself in her book but no matter how long and hard she stared at the pages, she never seemed to see the words. Instead there were only those eyes.

Sometimes they glowed, just as they had the first time she'd seen them behind her mirror, such eyes that could belong to no mere human. But more often these eyes stared at her with that look of a lost child, of a broken man, just as they had when she stole one last look over her shoulder. Just one last glimpse of her Angel of Music before she returned to the light...

'Christine!' a voice called. Raoul stood in front of her, frowning in concern. He looked slightly bedraggled and Christine finally heard the faint sounds of rain outside, hammering down on the ground of the De Chagny estate.

'Raoul, forgive me!' she exclaimed, putting on a small smile to ease his mind 'I can get so engrossed in these novels sometimes'

'Do not worry, I just wanted to see you, I see so little of you these days' he looked slightly ashamed of himself. Ever since their return he had hardly spent a single day in her company, there was so much to be arranged, organised, and prepared for their upcoming wedding. She had offered to help him but he had refused.

'_Nonsense!' _he had declared_ 'I would not want you to stress yourself so much so you were ill on our wedding day, Little Lotte' he smiled at her fondly. 'I am only to happy to do this for you, please let me…'_

'But let us not talk of that now' he said, jarring her thoughts. 'I shall have to leave again in the morning to finalise arrangements with the church, at least we shall have dinner together tonight' she smiled once again and nodded, not trusting herself to say anything.

For a former Prima Donna she now found herself near mute. Her words had been left back at the Opera Populaire. With _him_.

Raoul cupped her chin gently in his hand and smiled at her lovingly. 'Fear not, Little Lotte, soon this shall all be over, and we shall be married' he smiled a little broader 'then I shall have more time to be with you'. With that he released his hold on her and left to prepare for dinner.

But once he had left the room Christine was consumed by her thoughts once more. Her book now rested beside the chair, completely forgotten, and she fidgeted with her hands on her lap. Would he really have more time with her? Wouldn't he have much to do as the Vicomte? Her Angel would have stayed close to her; no matter how much work he had to do.

In her mind she could imagine it. She would sit and listen as he composed, that blasted cat would be there for sure, glaring at her no doubt, but her Angel wouldn't mind that they were there. Perhaps he would invite her to sing after a while. Perhaps she would hear _his _voice rise in song, and her soul would feel utterly at peace in that moment.

Christine stopped these thoughts quickly. She was engaged. Her Angel was surely gone now, and he was surely not _her_ Angel any longer. Perhaps he was not even still alive, if the mob had found him…

* * *

It was not an uncomfortable dinner, she ate enough to satisfy Raoul, and he spoke of the wedding and his excitement. She would smile and nod in agreement and when he started to realise her lack of input she feigned weariness. He was not to know that she tried to stave off sleep as much as possible now. For the Angel was there too. He was everywhere she looked.

Retiring to her room she picked up her book and sat in front of the fire, just as she had in her childhood home, with her father, all those years ago. She felt guilty that she missed her Angel as much as she missed her beloved father. The Angel was always just her teacher, her mentor. Her father had meant so much more to her, she had loved him so much…

The words faded away again. Christine was dimly aware of the continuing rainfall outside, but it meant little to her. The fire was so warm and inviting, perhaps the only thing she found any comfort in in the De Chagny house. Sighing resignedly, Christine set her book aside once more, and rose from the floor to prepare herself for another night of tormented sleep.

A small flash of white. The window. Her heart leapt instantly and she found herself racing over to get a closer look. Of course, there was nothing. Her heart sunk once more and she could not help but wish, hope, pray that it had been what she thought she'd seen. That mask…

Pulling the curtains closed once again she released a sigh she had not known she'd held. She had to find herself peace. She still needed closure; somehow that last encounter wasn't enough. It was then that she resolved to return to the Opera Populaire in the morning. She would return to the Phantoms' Opera.

* * *

It was easier to leave the De Chagny house than she had anticipated. The maids asked few questions, and said little more than to dress warmly against the cold Parisian air.

It seemed funny to Christine how she had forgotten the others whose lives were turned upside-down by the Phantom. She occasionally saw faces of dancers and chorus members she had once known well and sung beside, now searching out lodgings and trying to find jobs to survive on.

Rebuilding work had already begun on the Opera House, or at least the materials to do so were beginning to arrive. People who walked past the building whispered to one another of gossip and hearsay and outrageous rumours. They whispered even more when they saw her. Such a scandal, she was rather surprised Raoul still wanted to have anything to do with her. But she shook her thoughts of him from her mind. It was her Angel she had come here to think about.

Christine walked around the outside of the Opera House, looked up at the statues on the roof, looked at the stables more than she had ever done when she had lived there. How she had taken it all for granted. She had taken her Angel for granted too. The thought brought on new feelings of guilt and shame. She had been unworthy of him, of his attentions. He should've taught another, one who could appreciate him and his gifts. Accept him. All of him.

Then she stopped. Not more than a few steps away from her was a black metal grate set into one of the walls of the Opera House. Recognition sparked in her mind.

'_Madame Giry told me of how she hid him in the Opera house, slipping him in through a secret entrance in the wall that none would think to check' Raoul said waving a hand absently 'then she showed me how to enter the lair so I could rescue you Little Lotte'…_

This was it. She felt a shiver of thrill race up her spine. How close she was to returning to the lair of her Angel. How close she was to being free of her nightmares. Cautiously she lifted away the grate and stared into the blackness beyond. Such darkness would have daunted her before, but now she barely thought of it at all. Instead she slowly and carefully slid her lithe form through the hole, and landed on her feet with a small splash.

* * *

Every step after that only seemed to ease her soul, she could feel it. The song began to creep back up from her heart and her lungs, with every step it moved closer and closer to the tip of her tongue. It was almost ready burst free from her lips when she saw the all too familiar gondolier, waiting right where she and Raoul had left it that night.

She found it was not as hard to push the small boat along as she had thought it would be. Now her heart was burning for her to sing once more, to sing for her Angel as she had on her first journey. But a part of her was also feeling increasingly worried about what she may find. Would the liar still be there? What if she found his body instead? Could she bare to see the fall of the Kingdom of Music?

The gate to the liar was already open when she turned the corner. The mist rose eerily off the surface of the lake, like an ominous fog marring her view of what lay beyond. She was quite sure she was trembling, but whether it was from fear, or simply anticipation, she did not know.

It was a mess. Countless music scores floated on the surface of the lake as she finally reached the other side, and got out to look further. She was instantly horrified at the thought of such beautiful music lost to the water, and stopped for a moment to try and gather some of the pieces of paper, in the vain hope of saving it. Her Angel would hate to loose his work.

Of course, it wasn't just paper strewn about the lair. Broken candelabras lay here and there; the grand organ had been viciously attacks with some sharp implement. Deep scratches covered its surface, the keys were ripped from their places, and parts of it had caved in. There was evidence of a fire. Ash stained the floor and the walls, some of the elegant drapes and curtains had been half eaten by flames. Underneath her feet glass crunched into the cold stone ground, as about a half dozen obliterated mirrors lined the walls. Such destruction of a place that had amazed her, frightened her sometimes, indeed, but had stunned her always.

Slowly she sank to the floor where she stood, absently brushing away a few glass shards from beneath her, ignoring the slight scratches she received. Then she started sobbing silently.

The guilt was so strong, the shame almost overpowering, but the sorrow hurt her so much she thought she would never know an end to it. There would never be anything beyond this pain, this great sadness. As she hung her head in her hands she cried quietly, not even bothering to brush away the tears that spilled down her pale cheeks. Christine could have sat there like that forever but she was suddenly broken from her tears by a low and menacing yowl.

Ayesha glared daggers at the former soprano, her piercing gaze never wavering. Her back arched and she let out a long, sharp, hiss, her hair standing on end. _You're not welcome_ was the simple message. Christine quickly pulled herself back onto her feet and then she saw that dark shadowed figure she had both adored and feared. 'Angel' she murmured faintly.

A derisive snort. Ayesha yowled again and he moved forwards to take his beloved cat into his arms. 'What are you doing here?' he snarled 'where is your precious Vicomte?' the disgust in his voice was impossible to miss, and she winced to hear such a beautiful voice say such hateful words. Her angel wore his usual white half-mask, but the visible side of his face was a similar pale shade. He looked slightly dishevelled, yet still somehow held about himself the grace and elegance he had always radiated. Ayesha softened and melted in his arms, purring contentedly, and ignoring Christine completely. But his startling eyes were fixed unblinkingly on her, and she could not shrink away from them, no matter how much she may have wanted to.

'I had to see' she began quietly 'what happened?' he glowered at her.

'Is it not perfectly clear what happened?' he snapped 'has it escaped your notice that my home has been reduced to ruins? Or were you perhaps hoping to find the that I was a living corpse no longer, would that have helped you sleep better at night?' his poisonous words lingered in the icy air for a moment. Christine chewed her lip a little. It was far easier to imagine this situation, than to find yourself in it. But she was determined.

'It _was _you at my bedroom window last night then' she said, a little triumphantly.

'If you have come to ask that this Phantom haunt you no longer, then I shall grant you that, Viper' he hissed 'or have you come with more men to try and take my life?' he roared, striding closer and closer to her. He quickly put Ayesha on the floor and she cried out in protest, but a murderous rage had taken over him. He grasped Christines' face in his hands before she had the chance to run away. In fact she felt as if she had been rooted to the spot, and couldn't have run away even if she had wanted to.

'Answer me Christine!' he bellowed 'why have you returned here?' but all she could do was stand in silence, trying to meet his gaze without bursting into tears, or becoming a shaking wreck. But suddenly a look of pain crossed those flaming eyes; a small gasp escaped her Angels' lips and his grip on her lessened. Quickly he let go of her completely and spun and turned his back on her. No longer did her stand tall and proud, but he seemed hunched over a little in agony. Ayesha howled worriedly and wound herself around her Masters' legs deftly.

'Are you injured?' Christine asked quickly, hurrying after him. He didn't respond. Instead he walked faster into one of the rooms, but as he turned to slam the door shut behind him he gasped loudly and hunched over a little more, all but falling to his knees. 'Please tell me, Angel!' she cried desperately. But instead he simply glowered at her, before closing his eyes in pain, his breath coming in short gasps.

Looking about she saw the coffin and shuddered. He could call it what he liked but she wasn't a fool anymore. She wasn't the naïve girl he had tutored. How could one grow so much in such a short time? 'Is there anything I can do to help, Angel?' she asked hurriedly.

'Go… away' he hissed 'leave me'

'Please,' she persisted 'let me help you' but he would not relent, he forced himself to stand up straighter and tried to calm his own breathing.

'All I need is for you to leave me here and never return!' he snapped viciously 'you silly little girl!' he was caught in a coughing fit for a while and she backed out of the room, closing her eyes sadly. What now? Leave him, return to Raoul? Or fight a losing battle here? Another gasp of pain came from the room and she could feel herself trembling. In her mind she could remember his voice _"Christine, I love you…" _and she knew she could not bare the thought of never hearing that voice again. The words were too much to ask for.

'Angel, you should rest' she said tentatively, searching within herself for the courage to go up against him. A hollow laugh.

'I am a demon, and I command that you leave!' he said fiercely.

'What if you die?' she asked quickly.

'Then it would be a long overdue reprieve' he hissed as another wave of pain swept over him.

'_You alone can make my song take flight_' she murmured, not even sure he had heard it. But his words from the first night gave her the courage to re-enter the room now. 'Please, Angel, I will do anything you ask of me if you will tell me how to help you now' the words tumbled out of her mouth before she'd thought through all the implications, but she couldn't take them back.

'Anything?' he repeated. There was something in his voice now, something not wholly unpleasant.

'Anything' she said firmly 'now please tell me how to help you!' she begged. There was a pause.

'I have a tonic that will ease the pain' he said finally 'stored in the room I made for…' his words trailed off and they both knew the room he meant.

'Come with me, show me' she pleaded.

'You said I need to rest' he pointed out.

'There is a bed there' she told him firmly 'a bed not a coffin!'

'A coffin is more appropriate' he murmured, the tone of his voice softening a little more.

'No it isn't!' Christine said darkly, She could have sworn he chuckled a little at this outburst from her, but he instantly hunched over in pain once again. Christine grasped his frozen hand in her own, pondering briefly on how someone could survive such cold. He looked up at her, his eyes revealed fear, pain, and maybe just a little hope. She pulled him gently to his feet and steered him back out into the main room, before leading them both to that room she had stayed in all that time ago.

* * *

It was as good as untouched, compared to the rest of the lair. Most of the cupboards, the wardrobe, appeared to have been riffled through by the mob. But the bed and its sheets hadn't been shredded. She was thankful. Letting go of his hand she wasn't sure she hadn't felt a slight twinge of sadness, for the loss of his skin against her own, but quickly pushed that aside to rummage through the drawers in search of this tonic. 'What does it look like?' she asked anxiously. The Phantom coughed again and mumbled '…tube…red…' Christine knew how much he'd hate her seeing him this weak. His pride had always been obvious, along with his stubbornness.

A few more seconds of searching and she'd found the small vile of reddish brown liquid. Quickly she passed it to him and he downed it before turning silently onto his side, away from her. An uncomfortable silence filled the room. 'Angel?' she asked quietly 'are you all right now?

'I am better, thank you Christine' he said politely.

'I'm glad' she sighed.

'Why?' he asked sharply, she looked at him thoughtfully. He turned over to look her in the eyes once more, and she felt bound to answering him.

'I don't know what I'd do without my Angel…' she murmured and his eyes widened a little.

'You did not seem to want your angel at the masquerade' he said pointedly 'nor did you choose him when the choice was given to you, why should it matter to you what happens to me now that you have your Vicomte and your light?' he demanded firmly.

'I don't know' she mumbled 'but I can't stop seeing you wherever I am, or thinking of you'

'I am still there?' he asked curiously.

'Excuse me?'

'_He'll always be there singing songs in my head…_' he sang softly, Christine closed her eyes as his voice filled the room and nodded her head gently.

'Forgive me, I should not have come to your room yesterday' he said after a moment.

'Why did you?' she asked softly.

'I just wanted to see you one last time' he said, his eyes keeping a firm lock with hers.

'That is why I came today, Angel, forgive me for causing you pain' Christine said sadly.

'I will always forgive you, Christine' he murmured sadly 'and my name is Erik'

'Erik' Christine murmured and he closed his eyes at the sound of his name on her lips. Silence fell between them again, as they both fell into their thoughts. Unsure of what should happen next.

'Sing for me' he said suddenly. Christine looked at him curiously.

'Pardon?'

'That is what I want from you, Christine, I want you to sing for me once more'. Christine whetted her lips anxiously and nodded in agreement.

'Is there anything you want me to…'

'Just sing' he said softly 'anything'. Christine took a breath to steady herself before launching into a song she had first heard in her childhood.

'_Good times, bad times, there's nothing I'll forget. The sun shines on our lifelines, there's nothing I'll regret_'. Erik sighed and closed his eyes, a peaceful expression falling over his face. Christine was surprised; she'd never seen her maestro at peace. He looked more graceful than before, and handsome. Even with her knowledge of what lay beneath that simple white mask, she would call him handsome. This revelation surprised her slightly.

'_Hold me, and feel me, and wrap your arms around. 'Coz when you love me I'm quite clear that Heaven is here_'. She continued with her song, trying to keep a faint blush from appearing on her cheeks. But this song only brought these thoughts and feelings closer to her surface. '_Hear my confession, we're meant to be as one. Lead me to the mystery of happiness to come_'.

His eyes opened again and locked with hers, but with a stronger resolve than ever she continued with her song. It was what felt right. '_Touch me; I'll give you my blessing and desire. 'Coz when you feel eternal fire, then Heaven is here. Bad times, and street crimes, no matter where you go, some sects preach and some fools teach, they're giving us some show_'.

Erik sat up on the bed now, and Christine shyly sat down on it with him, now it was her gaze that caught his, now he was the one who couldn't escape. He didn't seem to want to. '_So send me an angel, and wrap your love around, 'coz when it all comes down you'll know that Heaven is here_'.

Christine paused for a moment, noticing the tears beginning to fall from her Angels' eyes. Silently she placed her hand over his, suddenly so sure of what she had really come here to do, what she had really wanted to say. '_Heaven is here..._' she finished the last word and watched her Angel anxiously.

'_Christine, I love you…_' he murmured softly, with that Christine felt her strength leave her. All those sleepless nights. All the times she'd imagined those eyes, remembered his voice. The pain she'd felt as she'd looked back whilst escaping. With a soft sob she threw her arms around his neck and held him tightly, she could feel him stiffen for a while before he awkwardly tried to return the embrace.

'_Erik, I love you_' she murmured into his chest. 'I love you, forgive me' she sobbed. She could feel him starting to break down too and he suddenly held her so tightly. She was quite sure she never wanted to leave his arms again. She knew she could never go back now.

'Always' he murmured as his tears mingled with her own, and her lips finally met his.

* * *

_You read to the end? Congrats, have a cookie. I hope you enjoyed it. Not sure if this is going to be left as-is or if I'll be inspired to continue it. I really can't see myself coming up with something original enough to continue this with, though. Anyway, thank you all for reading. _

_Allistair._


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